


Kaliadka

by Pokytoad



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas, Friendship, Gen, aph, got us some fluff ft the baltic boys, soviet bloc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokytoad/pseuds/Pokytoad
Summary: Moscow, Russia - 1965: Christmas Eve





	Kaliadka

**Author's Note:**

> Have a hodgepodge, low quality Christmas fic! No angst :0

The streetlights were flickering to life by the time Lithuania made his way upstairs, into the attic. It was Christmas Eve, but the vacant, ice-slicked roads would have left a man none the wiser. There were no twelve dishes for the twelve apostles, no advent wreaths to light at the feast - purple, pink, white. No warm evening parties with gilded bowls of mulled wine...

Russia, himself ill-willing to part with Yuletide tradition, had been afforded a single, sickly evergreen wreath to hang over the kitchen doorway. As a fundamental model of Communist indifference, he was simply expected not to acknowledge the "Westerners'" holiday at all. Looking rather miserable, he had retired to his study after dinner, ignoring Ukraine's gentle protests that he might stay for the special dessert she'd made. Amid the clatter and murmur of the table's clearing, the odds and ends of a scratchy sonata could be heard playing on the phonograph upstairs.

Lithuania had slipped out the door and off to the shadow market with ease, leaden with the few rubles he'd managed to scrape up in the last decade. 

Now, he couldn't contain his broad, winning smile as he shut the attic door and turned to face his brothers - Estonia looked up from the transistor radio on the nightstand and frowned. 

"What have _you_ been drinking?"

"Eduard, be nice. It's Christmas Eve." Latvia crossed his arms from where he was standing near the stove, but Lithuania's grin didn't wane. He tugged off his jacket and brightened the lantern. Then he took Latvia by the shoulders and guided him to the same cot Estonia was occupying.

"I'm trying to get a signal."

"Close your eyes, Eduard."

"I need a minute."

"I need a moment."

"What could you possibly want that can't wait a minute?"

"I want you to close your eyes!" Lithuania swatted at him and, after a brief, furious fumble with the radio antenna, he resigned and obeyed with a growl, eyebrows raised in blasé irritation. Just as he was about to fold his arms against his chest, Liet grabbed his wrists and adjusted them until they were outstretched, palms up.

"No peeking." 

"Alright."

"I'm serious."

" _Alright_."

Satisfied, Lithuania pulled a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and placed it in Estonia's tentatively extended hand. He didn't have enough money for the colorful papers displayed in the shop windows to wrap it properly. He didn't even have enough money for butcher paper.

"Toris..."

" _Shh_ , open it."

Estonia's face lit in thrilled disbelief as he delicately pulled away the corners of the kerchief to reveal a tarnished leather wristwatch.

He stuttered for a moment, unsure if he should be delighted or disapproving. "What... where..."

"I found it in the market."

"Toris, you didn't have to do this."

"It's broken."

Estonia pressed his lips together to hold in a smile at the remark. Lithuania smiled for him. He knew he liked repairing broken things. 

_He knew all too well._

Latvia was looking content enough to peer over Estonia's shoulder and watch the second hand flicker back and forth over the 8 on the watch's pearled ivory face.

"Raivis, close your eyes."

His little brother was all too willing to oblige, face scrunched shut and hands reaching happily for the object he placed there.

"A book..."

Eyes flying open the moment his fingertips grazed the hard cover, he gaped at the sight of it; it was thicker than any book he owned - albeit a small Bible - and the faded gild spirals upon faded red cloth glimmered in the lamplight. 

"Not just any book, Raivis. Open the cover."

There, in bold and unassuming typeface, rested an English title:

**The Captain's Daughter**

**Alexander Pushkin**

Latvia ran his fingers over the latin lettercase. Then he flipped through the pages, eyes widening even further. 

Estonia worried his lip.

"It's all in English."

"It is."

"If he gets caught with that-"

"He won't."

"I _won't_."

Latvia's voice was no more than an awed whisper; he stood and pulled Lithuania into a vicelike embrace. 

After a few moments of consideration, Estonia joined them.

"If we'd known, we would have found something to give you too, you know." 

"Having you here beside me has always been enough of a gift."

"Shut up, you sap."

"It's true!"

The next morning, Lithuania found a new pair of bootlaces in his shoes. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end, God bless. This fic was an ugly trip from start to finish.
> 
> A note on the Christmas references:  
> Lithuania celebrates Christmas on its eve, with a traditional meal that represents each of the 12 apostles in the Catholic faith. Advent wreaths are a Lutheran tradition, which Latvia most strongly associates with. As for Estonia, all I could find in regard to tradition was eating sauerkraut and blood sausage? 
> 
> While I'm sure Christmas wasn't explicitly _forbidden_ in the Soviet Union, I'm sure it was explicitly forbidden in the Braginsky household for reasons afore-mentioned. 
> 
> Happy Holidays, all!


End file.
